4,728 Steps to Happiness
by whathobertie
Summary: How it could have gone and how it really went. Either way, their destiny is unavoidable. (Post 'Killer App' fic) Cal/Gillian, drama/humor.


**TITLE:** 4,728 Steps to Happiness**  
GENRE:** Drama/Humor**  
CHARACTERS:** Cal, Gillian**  
PAIRING:** Cal/Gillian**  
RATING:** PG**  
SPOILERS:** None**  
WORDS:** 1,300**  
SUMMARY:** How it could have gone and how it really went. Either way, their destiny is unavoidable. (Post _'Killer App'_ fic)

* * *

**{ How it **_**could have**_** gone }**

It felt like victory when she finally laughed about one of his silly jokes again. He sensed every muscle (including his heart) reacting to the wrinkles around her eyes. It was still there, just temporarily disabled.

He volunteered to take on some of her paperwork duties. He might have even offered to be a tad nicer.

He took her out to lunches in the warming sun and tried to make her smile. On day seven it paid off and she laughed, shaking her head at him at the very same time.

No way he would let sorrow win this battle.

**[ How it **_**really**_** went ]**

It's been four weeks and barely a word. Plenty of words actually, but rarely a word about _it_. The elephant in the room, the pain they've been avoiding. Evasion—classic survival strategy. Like in the textbooks they both might have been studying some twenty years ago.

He exhaled heavily when he spotted her behind her desk from a distance. She was either out at five or staying until midnight and he wondered about what she was doing, worried about her spiraling further downward.

He always wondered and worried actually. Wondered why he didn't do anything, worried that he never might.

**{ How it **_**could have**_** gone then }**

The laugh was step number one on a list that only existed in his head. All the other steps were far more complicated, but this was a good start. Brilliant even, because she laughed and gave him this dismissive look at the same time. Made him feel like the good old times.

Step two was to get her to hug him. Not _hug her_, but have _her hug him_. Step 1.5 would be any kind of touch she initiated.

The touch of her hand came easily during a suicide case the next week (oh boy, that almost counted as cheating!).

**[ How it **_**really**_** went then ]**

He felt her slipping away. Slowly and steadily, like water inevitably running through his fingers. Comforting her on the sofa in her office seemed like such a long time ago.

He thought it might be a chance to get even closer and he really wanted to open up to her, but somehow the pressure of that uncertain future drove him in the opposite direction. They grew distant—emotional self-protection.

He tried talking, but words failed and she got irritated. So did he. He tried not talking and sadness returned to her features like there was nothing he could possibly do.

**{ But how it **_**could have**_** gone }**

He made his slow and steady way through all the steps. Until he reached the last one to tick off his list. Not the last one he wanted to take with her, but the one after which he didn't really know how to go on. Maybe he would fail anyway.

This time it took courage. Not just some jokes, empathetic looks or an understanding touch. It took actual guts.

He walked into her office and they danced around it for a bit. Just some normal conversation, a joke, a smile and him looking out of her window over illuminated Washington.

**[ But how it **_**really**_** went ]**

By now he had figured out that she left the office at five o'clock sharp every Monday and Thursday. He wondered why it took him so long to see this simple pattern.

There were no work-related appointments; he had checked that. She hadn't told him about anything special going on in her life, so he worried even more. Maybe she was sick and needed regular doctor's appointments. Maybe she was seeing a guy he didn't know about.

In the end it wasn't just curiosity that let him get into his car on a Thursday, following her lead with some distance.

**{ How it **_**could have**_** gone instead }**

He stared out of the window for quite some time and he could feel her confusion behind him. When he turned around to face her, it was fast and clumsily.

"You wanna go on a date with me?"

"What kind of date?" She looked honestly puzzled.

"A _date_ date?" It was a question, how weird. He had meant to say it with confidence, but the expression on her face left him unsure and like a fool.

But she relaxed a little. "Do I have to dress up?"

"Depends on where I'm taking you."

"So where are you taking me then?"

**[ How it **_**really**_** went instead ]**

He lost her somewhere in the small streets of Columbia Heights. He stopped the car, sighed and promised himself to try it again on Monday.

It was then when she suddenly came out of nowhere, knocking on his window, nearly giving him a heart attack.

"Cal, it's just a support group meeting, so no need to follow me around. I'm not secretly working for Rader."

"Oh," he said sheepishly and studied her face. "On a scale from one to ten, how mad are you?"

"About four-ish."

"That's not too bad."

"No, but it's increasing with every second you're standing here."

**{ How it **_**could have**_** gone later }**

He was nervous as fuck. Only way he could describe it.

She was too, as he could see when she opened the door and revealed a stunning dress he had never seen on her before. It was simple and classic, yet elaborate. A bit like her.

They hadn't actually talked again about what kind of _date_ that was. Whether it was more like him trying to make her smile over lunch shifted to the evening hours, or a new step they were taking.

He didn't know where it would lead them, but he was certain of one thing: his feelings.

**[ How it **_**really**_** went later ]**

This time it was her who initiated contact and opened up. She was already sitting behind his desk when he entered the office the next morning. Calm and collected. Maybe her anger level had fallen to three-ish by now.

He sat down opposite her, the desk separating them, and apologized. He said he was worried without revealing what else he really felt.

Without prompting she told him about the support group, about grieving, about sleepless nights and racing thoughts, guilt and Claire's blood on her hands, emotional distance and numbness, about first baby steps taken. About more steps to come.

**{ How it **_**could have**_** gone in the end }**

"So why are we here?"

"The triple chocolate mousse cake?" he offered jokingly (well no, it was actually his reason to choose this specific restaurant), but a little taken aback by her blunt question.

"That's certainly a good reason. Anything else?"

"Does there have to be anything else?"

Now she looked a little upset and saddened. She avoided his eyes.

He fumbled with his napkin and tried again. "Well, there is a lot apart from that, but I didn't think that far."

She looked at him baffled for a long time and then broke out in a huge, knowing smile.

**[ How it **_**really**_** went in the end ]**

"How many steps does this program have?"

"4,728," she replied cheekily.

"Yeah? So what's 4,728 then? Me massaging your feet?"

"That would be somewhere in the three thousands."

"Meaning we would go further from that?"

"I don't know, Cal. I'm only at step five."

He could have been oh so wrong, but he simply didn't care anymore. He took her sentence as the plea he wanted to hear from her. _Wait for me, there will be a time._

He was happy to be at step five with her for now. And she smiled at him like she was happy too.

**THE END**


End file.
